i've tried to write - so many times, recently. 
i'll make the necessary clicks to get to this blank blog page - and blink at the cursor as it blinks back at me.

i am not empty - but, my words are

i haven't stopped reading though-and seeking music that awakens me.
lately, it feels like music is a kick-start for my tired heart

i don't know where i'm about to head with my life - but, i've been seeking out options and considering nothing as a limitation, except my own fear.

at 28, fear is a much greater factor in my life than i would like to admit. 
i've been a fearful girl my entire life. sincerely.
and, usually this fear is well based - because it's only been a matter of time before life would rise back up 
and smack me (or my family) in the face:

i realize, now - this is true for everyone.

and, so i don't feel like the thoughts i have any more are so original
or merit a blog - requesting of you - your time to read it and possibly respond.

i keep waiting for that epiphany moment of inspired writing. 
that laser focused moment of clarity which will release all of this energy that is collecting inside of me

i'm ready for a release 
and to find my channel for this next period of my life
once i find it - all of my energy will flow in that positive direction.

until then, though - i seek - and my cursor blinks..

To all my Oklahoma Friends -
If you live anywhere near campus - you should go to the Post Secret Event there on Wednesday. I SO wish I could go...I've been crusing the site for a year or so - every Sunday - and they never have an event near me!

PostSecret Events in December
University Oklahoma, OK
(Open to the Public)
12-3-08
www.postsecret.blogspot.com


If you haven't already heard of Post Secret, it is a fascinating social experiment that this guy name Frank started a few years ago. Essentially, he encourages people to send in their secrets on the back of a postcard, anonymously. He then publishes them on the web, every Sunday. Some of them make it into books, which he publishes every once in a while. I haven't bought myself a book, yet...but, I will someday!

Below, I'll post a few to show you what I mean. Warning: This stuff is addictive, and cathartic, sometimes disturbing, but almost always revealing.

Love you all,
Hill

i had my first foray into the american justice system - behind-the scenes.

i mean, i've had a couple (plenty) of tearful traffic court appearances - but, today was my first time ever serving jury duty. i'm convinced that i was served with a summons SOLELY because i recently voted for Hillary Clinton in the primaries, and i made a big deal about it - and, so-i pay my civic penance.

i had no idea what to expect - but, i did know that i was supposed to dread this, entirely. that it was supposed to be one of the most eye-roll inducing recollections of my life, at some point- and so, dutifully, i postponed my first jury summons date-and put it off for a month - so i could really dread it, and build up lots of resentment.

it worked. at least the dread part. by last night, when i was cutting my weekend short-so i could go home and get to bed at a decent hour, i did kinda resent the fact that they served me with an 8am start time. and, i suppose at about 6:15 this morning, when i was shuffling to the bathroom to brush my teeth and splash a little water on my face-i was feeling just a tid bit bitchy about my civic duty.

today was the first day of school for lots of texans - and, i suppose i shared in their jitters last night, because i didn't sleep hardly AT ALL. my stomach was all knotted up, i was tossing and turning. i seriously get freaked out about being faced with new situations that i know nothing about...and when those new situations involve policemen in uniforms, and scary looking judges up on elevated platforms, and long waits in a room where i have to be quiet and listen, intellectually....well, it kinda sounds like my idea of hell.

by the time i was parked, seated, given a 18 digit number, shuffled through the system, taken to the basement, taken back up to the street, walked down three city blocks (police escort and all-felt like a field trip, to me) to the criminal courts building, marched into a cargo elevator, and whisked away to the 17th floor-i think it finally set in that i might actually get selected to sit on a jury of a criminal trial.

i clowned around with the guys in line with me. we laughed a lot - and were able to get the bailiff for the next door courtroom to fill us in on what was happening in his courtroom. seems that a local dentist was thought to have posted up some hidden cameras in his dental clinic bathrooms. recording footage of patients - you know...takin' care of business. luckily, the grey haired, bearded man in line next to me was a total clown-because we went back and forth for about 20 minutes with one-liners on that, alone.

by the time we were seated, inside - and assigned NEW 2-digit numbers that we were to answer to-it was getting close to noon - and that wooden bench was starting to suck.

"juror 58."- that's me, now - i'd been called by the sandy haired, young, plump DA. "would you have objections to seeing an 8-year-old called to testify against their mother in a court of law."

"absolutely." i replied.

elements of the trial began to be revealed - and, i became increasing uncomfortable with the entire situation. we were being asked, over and over again, if we could be "objective" and "fair" in certain situations. some of the situations, despite my willingness to try, i found-i could not be neutral on. sitting on a potential juror panel is not one of the situations i would have considered to be a soul-searching experience...but, can i just tell you-i was looking at myself long and hard today, and what i found didn't entirely impress me. but, it didn't entirely disgust me, either. (which, if you know me...you know is a step in the right direction.)

it became apparant, about an hour into potential juror questioning, that this case was involving criminal responsibility for the conduct of others - or, in this case, a mother was being accused of forcing her child(ren) to break the law for her personal gain.

throughout the questioning, the defendant's attorney kept calling on me. perhaps because i was so candid with my thoughts, needless to say, everytime they called me "58" - the ting tings "that's not my name" rang through my head.

i kept imagining what it would be like to turn that courtroom into my very own music video...


luckily-i was "released" at around 2:30 or 3pm - and was able to jam out allllll the way home.

i think it might have been the comment when i used the word "enraged". or then again, maybe it was because they could tell i'd been daydreaming of smoke machines and hot pink electric stratocasters...

either way, it's good to be an american. and it's even better NOT to be a juror, tonight. :)

i had my first foray into the american justice system - behind-the scenes.

i mean, i've had a couple (plenty) of tearful traffic court appearances - but, today was my first time ever serving jury duty. i'm convinced that i was served with a summons SOLELY because i recently voted for Hillary Clinton in the primaries, and i made a big deal about it - and, so-i pay my civic penance.

i had no idea what to expect - but, i did know that i was supposed to dread this, entirely. that it was supposed to be one of the most eye-roll inducing recollections of my life, at some point- and so, dutifully, i postponed my first jury summons date-and put it off for a month - so i could really dread it, and build up lots of resentment.

it worked. at least the dread part. by last night, when i was cutting my weekend short-so i could go home and get to bed at a decent hour, i did kinda resent the fact that they served me with an 8am start time. and, i suppose at about 6:15 this morning, when i was shuffling to the bathroom to brush my teeth and splash a little water on my face-i was feeling just a tid bit bitchy about my civic duty.

today was the first day of school for lots of texans - and, i suppose i shared in their jitters last night, because i didn't sleep hardly AT ALL. my stomach was all knotted up, i was tossing and turning. i seriously get freaked out about being faced with new situations that i know nothing about...and when those new situations involve policemen in uniforms, and scary looking judges up on elevated platforms, and long waits in a room where i have to be quiet and listen, intellectually....well, it kinda sounds like my idea of hell.

by the time i was parked, seated, given a 18 digit number, shuffled through the system, taken to the basement, taken back up to the street, walked down three city blocks (police escort and all-felt like a field trip, to me) to the criminal courts building, marched into a cargo elevator, and whisked away to the 17th floor-i think it finally set in that i might actually get selected to sit on a jury of a criminal trial.

i clowned around with the guys in line with me. we laughed a lot - and were able to get the bailiff for the next door courtroom to fill us in on what was happening in his courtroom. seems that a local dentist was thought to have posted up some hidden cameras in his dental clinic bathrooms. recording footage of patients - you know...takin' care of business. luckily, the grey haired, bearded man in line next to me was a total clown-because we went back and forth for about 20 minutes with one-liners on that, alone.

by the time we were seated, inside - and assigned NEW 2-digit numbers that we were to answer to-it was getting close to noon - and that wooden bench was starting to suck.

"juror 58."- that's me, now - i'd been called by the sandy haired, young, plump DA. "would you have objections to seeing an 8-year-old called to testify against their mother in a court of law."

"absolutely." i replied.

elements of the trial began to be revealed - and, i became increasing uncomfortable with the entire situation. we were being asked, over and over again, if we could be "objective" and "fair" in certain situations. some of the situations, despite my willingness to try, i found-i could not be neutral on. sitting on a potential juror panel is not one of the situations i would have considered to be a soul-searching experience...but, can i just tell you-i was looking at myself long and hard today, and what i found didn't entirely impress me. but, it didn't entirely disgust me, either. (which, if you know me...you know is a step in the right direction.)

it became apparant, about an hour into potential juror questioning, that this case was involving criminal responsibility for the conduct of others - or, in this case, a mother was being accused of forcing her child(ren) to break the law for her personal gain.

throughout the questioning, the defendant's attorney kept calling on me. perhaps because i was so candid with my thoughts, needless to say, everytime they called me "58" - the ting tings "that's not my name" rang through my head.

i kept imagining what it would be like to turn that courtroom into my very own music video...


luckily-i was "released" at around 2:30 or 3pm - and was able to jam out allllll the way home.

i think it might have been the comment when i used the word "enraged". or then again, maybe it was because they could tell i'd been daydreaming of smoke machines and hot pink electric stratocasters...

either way, it's good to be an american. and it's even better NOT to be a juror, tonight. :)

i've been practicing guitar all morning - and, i'm sad to say, i sound waaaay worse than phoebe singing "smelly cat", today.

as a matter of fact, my guitar playing has so frustrated me - that i envisioned smashing it to bits at one point, this morning.

that happened about the 15th time i attempted to play a B minor or F chord - (bar chords) - and was just effing muting the strings, again.

anyway, i've attempted picking up guitar at least 3 different times in my life-and have always abandoned ship-simply finding it too frustrating.

i keep telling myself that "3rd time's a charm" line -
but, tell that to my clunky fingers, who seem to only remember how to get back to "G". i mean, at least my fingers are good and calloused - so, i've got that goin' for me.

it's a good thing that i live on my own, because i have a feeling that if someone else had to be subjected to my practicing all morning-we would cease to be friends any longer.

i imagine that it'd go something like this, "look, hillary - i'd really rather listen to kevin federline's 'popozao' album than listen to you." at which point, i would quietly go back to my room, and nibble on my newly calloused fingers, as i tried to figure out if maybe harmonica is MY instrument. or the kazoo? yeah, or maybe the slide whistle.

i think it's time to change it up: i need some private coaching. like this:

i've been practicing guitar all morning - and, i'm sad to say, i sound waaaay worse than phoebe singing "smelly cat", today.

as a matter of fact, my guitar playing has so frustrated me - that i envisioned smashing it to bits at one point, this morning.

that happened about the 15th time i attempted to play a B minor or F chord - (bar chords) - and was just effing muting the strings, again.

anyway, i've attempted picking up guitar at least 3 different times in my life-and have always abandoned ship-simply finding it too frustrating.

i keep telling myself that "3rd time's a charm" line -
but, tell that to my clunky fingers, who seem to only remember how to get back to "G". i mean, at least my fingers are good and calloused - so, i've got that goin' for me.

it's a good thing that i live on my own, because i have a feeling that if someone else had to be subjected to my practicing all morning-we would cease to be friends any longer.

i imagine that it'd go something like this, "look, hillary - i'd really rather listen to kevin federline's 'popozao' album than listen to you." at which point, i would quietly go back to my room, and nibble on my newly calloused fingers, as i tried to figure out if maybe harmonica is MY instrument. or the kazoo? yeah, or maybe the slide whistle.

i think it's time to change it up: i need some private coaching. like this:


mitch hedberg = genius.

The Invitation

It doesnt interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting your hearts longing.

It doesnt interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesnt interest me what planets are squaring your moon...
I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened by lifes betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us to
be careful
be realistic
remember the limitations of being human.

It doesnt interest me if the story you are telling me 
is true.
I want to know if you can 
disappoint another 
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life 
from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
Yes.

It doesnt interest me
to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesnt interest me who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesnt interest me where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone 
with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments.

By-Oriah: Mountian Dreamer

i'm back in oklahoma, visiting family and seeing old friends.  and, while i am so glad that i am here, now - getting on the plane to come here was one of the more difficult things that i've done in a while.

i've been very resistant to come back to ok, because everything seems to remind me of something in my life that has been broken or someone who we've lost.  a surreal example of this is the car i'm driving while i'm here.  it was my grandmother's.  it still smells like her - and walking up on it, parked at the airport last night - my silly little heart decided to flutter the way it would if she were the one who was waiting inside to drive me home.  of course she wasn't.  and, of course, those hot tears were choked back, yet again.

last night i sat up with my longest running best friend forever, my sister, heather-and we just talked like we always do.  but, i guess i sometimes forget how good she is for me.  she's truly an angel, and it's so nice to see her pretty liitle face. 

she and i were talking about how much i've changed in the past few years.  the way she puts it, i'm now "just a shell" of the hillary she grew up knowing and loving.  apparantly, i no longer display that joie de vive that used to bubble up from the inside.  instead, she said it's like my skeleton is here - but, my emotions - my soul are absent.

truth is, i feel like a shell.  i feel pretty empty. 

actually, it's not that i feel totally "empty" - it's more like i'm jammed full of a mess of thoughts and memories that are all hollow now.  so there's this "junk" thats cluttering up my mind and my heart-and it's all empty-if that makes sense.  it's all just the remains of what i've held dear.

and, i do feel pretty far removed from my past persona.  laughing doesn't come as easy as it used to.  (except around a few people who seem to bring that out in me, like heather, thank goodness.) 

heather played this song for me by Sanctus Real called "Whatever You're Doing".  she cried as we listened to it, and i just lay my head on her shoulder and rubbed her back while we let the music wash over us.  my heart aches still, but the tears are drying up, now.  instead, i find myself often getting angry in the same situations that used to make my cry.  it's a strange journey through grief, but hearing something like that song - can help me find the part of my heart that is still tender, because that part starts to swell when it's touched.  i put the song on my profile - listen to it if you can.  it's beautiful.

so, i've decided that perhaps the prescription i need to follow is this:  to surround myself with people who make me smile.  i can't be a hermit forever...

i plan to see a few old friends while i'm here.  and i plan to soak up the exerience of being in their presence.  i know so many fantastic people in oklahoma.  so many who inspire me, just because of who they are-or how they think. 

i need to immerse myself in other people right now.  i need new experiences.  new memories.  something rich, something juicy - something to light me back up and to fill this hole in my chest.

it's good to be home.  it's good to be reminded who you are - and that there are actually people out there that care about you, personally - just because you are you.

over the next week, i hope i'm reminded.  i hope i'm re-fueled. 

i'm determined to be a listener this week, and not so much of a "talker".  i don't have much to say, anyway.  i'd rather just fully immerse myself in new thoughts and ideas - those of my familly and friends.

if you're in OK, i'm here until next thursday -  wanna go get coffee or something?  you know how to reach me...

hopeful and thankfully yours,

hillary

i'm back in oklahoma, visiting family and seeing old friends. and, while i am so glad that i am here, now - getting on the plane to come here was one of the more difficult things that i've done in a while. i've been very resistant to come back to ok, because everything seems to remind me of something in my life that has been broken or someone who we've lost. a surreal example of this is the car i'm driving while i'm here. it was my grandmother's. it still smells like her - and walking up on it, parked at the airport last night - my silly little heart decided to flutter the way it would if she were the one who was waiting inside to drive me home. of course she wasn't. and, of course, those hot tears were choked back, yet again. last night i sat up with my longest running best friend forever, my sister, heather-and we just talked like we always do. but, i guess i sometimes forget how good she is for me. she's truly an angel, and it's so nice to see her pretty liitle face. she and i were talking about how much i've changed in the past few years. the way she puts it, i'm now "just a shell" of the hillary she grew up knowing and loving. apparantly, i no longer display that joie de vive that used to bubble up from the inside. instead, she said it's like my skeleton is here - but, my emotions - my soul are absent. truth is, i feel like a shell. i feel pretty empty. actually, it's not that i feel totally "empty" - it's more like i'm jammed full of a mess of thoughts and memories that are all hollow now. so there's this "junk" thats cluttering up my mind and my heart-and it's all empty-if that makes sense. it's all just the remains of what i've held dear. and, i do feel pretty far removed from my past persona. laughing doesn't come as easy as it used to. (except around a few people who seem to bring that out in me, like heather, thank goodness.) heather played this song for me by Sanctus Real called "Whatever You're Doing". she cried as we listened to it, and i just lay my head on her shoulder and rubbed her back while we let the music wash over us. my heart aches still, but the tears are drying up, now. instead, i find myself often getting angry in the same situations that used to make my cry. it's a strange journey through grief, but hearing something like that song - can help me find the part of my heart that is still tender, because that part starts to swell when it's touched. i put the song on my profile - listen to it if you can. it's beautiful. so, i've decided that perhaps the prescription i need to follow is this: to surround myself with people who make me smile. i can't be a hermit forever... i plan to see a few old friends while i'm here. and i plan to soak up the exerience of being in their presence. i know so many fantastic people in oklahoma. so many who inspire me, just because of who they are-or how they think. i need to immerse myself in other people right now. i need new experiences. new memories. something rich, something juicy - something to light me back up and to fill this hole in my chest. it's good to be home. it's good to be reminded who you are - and that there are actually people out there that care about you, personally - just because you are you. over the next week, i hope i'm reminded. i hope i'm re-fueled. i'm determined to be a listener this week, and not so much of a "talker". i don't have much to say, anyway. i'd rather just fully immerse myself in new thoughts and ideas - those of my familly and friends. if you're in OK, i'm here until next thursday - wanna go get coffee or something? you know how to reach me... hopeful and thankfully yours, hillary

(Spoiler Alert: Don't read this if you haven't seen the movie, yet.) I saw it Saturday night with Elliott and I thought it was FANTASTIC! It has been a LONG time since I've gone to see any sort of Super Hero Flick. I haven't seen any of the Spiderman movies, and I don't really care for Hell Boy or any of that shiz-but, being as macabre as I am, I had to go see Heath's last performance. Heath did an incredible job with the Joker - you're going to be hearing this over and over-and that's because it's true. He truly chilled me. He was very convincing as a lunatic, and I can absolutely see how his immersion in this role was the beginning of his end. He was literally sick with sleeplessness and had been medicating himself to find any sort of rest - all of which supposedly started during his role at the Joker. The entire plot line seemed to ask the question "is man really inherently bad or good?"-This really resonated with me. What a powerful message for Heath's last role. Throughout the film we get to examine what it is that occurs when man is faced with difficult decisions. Sadly, we often saw the nastiness of human nature. I'm glad they still encourage us to hope for man's better tendencies, but I find myself leaning more toward believeing that the darkness in the human race is winning - kinda like the Joker was saying... I was wondering why they decided to make batman ride a motorcycle this time (the pod) - but figured out why in that really cool sequence when he ejects from the batmobile tank looking thing! That rocked! His cape flapping in the wind behind the "Bat Pod"- visually, it was just incredible. In that instant, Christian Bale epitomizes Super Hero to me. It's interesting the way the left the Joker hanging, literally, in the end. Makes me wonder what they had intended to do with that character, and if they'll bring back a different actor to carry the role. I doubt seriously if they'd ever do that - unless they figured a way to do it tastefully. Same thing with Two Face/Harvey Dent. I don't follow all the Batman movies, so I really don't know the backstory of Two Face, but I can officially say the twist in that plot: That was CRAZY! I'm wondering where that's gonna lead-but, I'd say the good side-Harvey's side is dead, wouldn't you? Quite possibly, he'll be the next nemesis. Overall, I loved it! I am so glad we went to see it! Who knew that modern day movies can play out like a morality play? Did you see it? What did you think?

i've had three of my girlfriends get engaged in the past week. i'm not sure if it's something in the water-but: i've decided that it must be that aliens are planning to overtake earth unless a few more people get married, and they're sending out subliminal messages about it that only my friend's men can pick up on. it's their way of saving the planet - and that's about the only thing i can come up with for the recent rash of proposals that has popped up. otherwise, it's just a coincidence-and i don't really believe in those. from dinner on the riverwalk-to reeling in the most expensive lure in history-my friends men seriously know how to pop the question. the stories i've heard over the past week have re-invigorated my belief that romance is still alive and kickin'. i mean-what's more romantic than getting asked to marry someone in such a personal, custom tailored way. these guys went to all lengths to make sure that when they asked it would be memorable. or in justin's case-maria said he didn't ask-he mostly demanded, by saying, "marry me." :) i'm a big fan of proposal stories, so i thought i'd share the one proposal story that i've heard that tops the list for me- this dude was dating a sorority sister back in oklahoma. every monday, the girls in the sorority had to dress up for a traditional dinner and sorority meeting in their nice southern, style mansion of a sorority house (at OSU). during the middle of the dinner- this short dude in a hat and tails comes rushing in with a glass slipper and he's fussing about how he "has to find the woman who fits this shoe". he tries it on several different women with no luck, until he finally comes across julie. she tries and it fits. immediately he takes her by the hand and says she simply, "has to come" with him. by this time, all the girls are buzzing, as they push away from the table and follow this little messenger and julie out the front door. once they look outside, there is a red carpet rolled out to a horse drawn carriage-and her soon-to-be fiance is on his knee at the base of the stairs-by the carriage. he asked her to marry her right then and there-and all the girls went crazy. i heard that story while i was at my own sorority house in edmond-and it has stuck with me since then. back when i was in a sorority, if someone announced that they were getting married-we'd go get baby powder and shower them in it for good luck. it was a glorified powder fight-but it was one of my favorite things to be a part of. i think, in this day and age, so many of us are skeptical when it comes to marriage. but, just like our childhood hearts and minds embrace it-i think we should, too. and i think we should shower the couple-to-be with support, grace, and love. after all, it is those who surround a couple who can help to keep them together in the long run. my step-dad said once, to me, that anyone who witnesses a wedding is, in a sense, pledging to help keep that couple intact in the trying times that are to come. i've taken that pledge seriously, ever since he pointed that out to me. congratulations, my friends. and to the men who popped the question to each of my friends, "nice work". you guys are the reason we women all keep believing in romance. so, here's to three beautiful blushing brides-and to the pledge that i will be one of the folks who always prays, hopes, and supports you as you embark on this lifetime of love, together. now, if i could only find some baby powder...

notoriously funny man george carlin checked out, yesterday. he was the first comedian i ever went to see, in person. that night, part of his routine was about being an athiest. i remember almost immediately feeling guilty for finding his brand of humor funny.

the truth was, though: a lot of what he said was so brutally truthful, it would make you laugh until your abs hurt.

personally, i hope he found his spiritual side in last years of his life. it helps me to sleep better to think that he did.

below, i've found an excerpt of one of his more tame stand up routines, about "stuff". seriously, with as much as i travel lately-this is my mindset, so often, in a nutshell: "what STUFF do i bring"

notoriously funny man george carlin checked out, yesterday. he was the first comedian i ever went to see, in person. that night, part of his routine was about being an athiest. i remember almost immediately feeling guilty for finding his brand of humor funny. the truth was, though: a lot of what he said was so brutally truthful, it would make you laugh until your abs hurt. personally, i hope he found his spiritual side in last years of his life. it helps me to sleep better to think that he did. below, i've found an excerpt of one of his more tame stand up routines, about "stuff". seriously, with as much as i travel lately-this is my mindset, so often, in a nutshell: "what STUFF do i bring"

(Spoiler Alert: Don't read this if you haven't seen the movie, yet.)

I saw it Saturday night with Elliott and I thought it was FANTASTIC!



It has been a LONG time since I've gone to see any sort of Super Hero Flick. I haven't seen any of the Spiderman movies, and I don't really care for Hell Boy or any of that shiz-but, being as macabre as I am, I had to go see Heath's last performance.

Heath did an incredible job with the Joker - you're going to be hearing this over and over-and that's because it's true. He truly chilled me. He was very convincing as a lunatic, and I can absolutely see how his immersion in this role was the beginning of his end. He was literally sick with sleeplessness and had been medicating himself to find any sort of rest - all of which supposedly started during his role at the Joker.

The entire plot line seemed to ask the question "is man really inherently bad or good?"-This really resonated with me. What a powerful message for Heath's last role. Throughout the film we get to examine what it is that occurs when man is faced with difficult decisions. Sadly, we often saw the nastiness of human nature. I'm glad they still encourage us to hope for man's better tendencies, but I find myself leaning more toward believeing that the darkness in the human race is winning - kinda like the Joker was saying...

I was wondering why they decided to make batman ride a motorcycle this time (the pod) - but figured out why in that really cool sequence when he ejects from the batmobile tank looking thing! That rocked! His cape flapping in the wind behind the "Bat Pod"- visually, it was just incredible. In that instant, Christian Bale epitomizes Super Hero to me.

It's interesting the way the left the Joker hanging, literally, in the end. Makes me wonder what they had intended to do with that character, and if they'll bring back a different actor to carry the role. I doubt seriously if they'd ever do that - unless they figured a way to do it tastefully.

Same thing with Two Face/Harvey Dent. I don't follow all the Batman movies, so I really don't know the backstory of Two Face, but I can officially say the twist in that plot: That was CRAZY! I'm wondering where that's gonna lead-but, I'd say the good side-Harvey's side is dead, wouldn't you? Quite possibly, he'll be the next nemesis.

Overall, I loved it! I am so glad we went to see it!

Who knew that modern day movies can play out like a morality play?

Did you see it? What did you think?

"Since every death diminishes us a little, we grieve - not so much for the death as for ourselves" - Lynn Caine

Every death does diminish us a little - taking away a portion of our heart, only to replace it with an aching void. It is this newly created space that seems to devour any happiness or joy I might encounter. Because as soon as I figure out that I'm partially enjoying myself, I am reminded that perhaps this moment could have been that much sweeter - if only "they" could be here with us.

Yesterday, at 3:55pm, my Grandma Ludie took her last and final breath.

And, I understand that to grieve is the most indulgent of self indulgent acts. It is the darkest pit of self-absorbed, self-pity. 

But, please-just indulge me. Let me be the first to admit: I am consumed with this loss.

I am so completely exhausted down in this pit of despair, that I can only offer you space to curl up next to me in this darkness. My arms hang limply at my sides, and the half-hearted smile I might have been able to muster earlier in the week, has crawled down my face-creating a frown...a grimace. The beat of my heart will assure you that, yes-I will continue to breathe. Though, my heart feels as if it is stuttering and stammering to keep pumping. 

Lately, it seems that every time I come home to visit, it is to bury someone I love. 

Last night, I cried out until I was sick. Even then, crouched on the ground and emptying my insides - I could not get rid of the sickening loneliness. The realization that death has severed another relationship. Instead, I just clawed at the ground - and shouted out to God.

"God, I know you hear me.

I know you can hear me....

Lord, you can hear me....

You hear me, right?"

*Stiffening Silence*

I know He never forsakes us, but is it possible that he turns his head, at times, just to allow us to learn something on our own? Because, I've never felt so alone or so misunderstood - as I have recently.

I can say I need help. I can say I'm afraid of where my mind is headed - and how it seems to be off the tracks and running - pulling me with it - but for some reason, people seem to shrug it off....

please, please don't shrug me off. 

When I was a little girl, and I'd become overwhelmed with whatever may have been on my mind - I'd go sit on the porch and sing. Usually, my dog Pokie would come and lay his head in my lap - and lick the tears from my face. He seemed to just KNOW that I needed him.

Even Pokie is gone, now.

I've been riding my Mom's bike every day since I've been here. I keep thinking that if I'll just keep moving, I can trick my body into feeling more alive. I still swing by Reed's house - even though I know he won't be there. Just seeing his "Probe Testarosa" in the driveway makes me smile. I love remembering him, always dressed to the nines, pulling into the driveway to whisk Heather away somewhere for the evening. I keep lifting my eyes, waiting for my own version of Reed to pull into the driveway. But, that hope dwindles day-by-day.

Sometimes, I get so exhausted from emotion-that I'll just go to sleep in the middle of the day. Last Saturday was one of those days, and I lay on the couch in my living room, and drifted to sleep. In my dream, Reed came through the back door of my house with a basketball under his arm. He sat down next to me on the ottoman near the couch, as I was still sleeping (in my dream). He pushed the hair away from my face, and he leaned over me and said, "Don't lose your hope, Hillary. Don't you lose your hope." 

"You are going to have everything you need."

Then, he pulled a moving photo out of his pocket, and he said, "I want to show you something." This photo had a small cottage / cabin in the woods, with a spring river running through the back side of the land. He said, "This is going to be your house." 

Then, he said, "You want to know something else? You're going to have your own little boy. You're going to name him 'Robin'-because he'll sing like a bird."

To that, I began to cry. Then, he got up, spinning the basketball on the end of his finger the way he used to do-and he looked over his shoulder outside at the basketball goal. 

On his way out the door, he stopped and he said, "Hillary, your spirit is not broken - it's just the grief you are dealing with." And, he walked on out the door.

When I woke up, the ottoman was still sitting beside me in the same way it was when Reed had sat on it. The sun was shining through the blinds at exactly the same angle, and I felt this warmth-this true belief that it was he who HAD come to visit me. 

How could he have known that I am losing my hope? How could he have known how much I long for a family of my own? How much I desire to belong to a man, and to have that man love me for me? For all the quirks, and strangeness that is bundled up into this mess that I call "me"? 

I think that sometimes God will send us angels so we won't completely lose our hope.

Last night, Heather found me outside crying - I haven't cried in front of any of the family. And, she just sat with me. She just sat and sat so I wouldn't be alone. When she finally broke the silence to ask me what was wrong, I confided in her that I am beginning to lose hope. That all those dreams that I've held in my heart of hearts since I was a little girl, playing with my Barbie and Ken - they are slowly slipping away. That I'm starting to believe that love isn't part of my plan. That perhaps God won't allow me to have a love relationship because it distracts me too much from Him.

And, you know what she said, "Reed used to tell me not to lose my hope, Hillary. He told me to claim this verse: Jeremiah 29:11 'For I know the plans I have for you. Plans to prosper you. To give you life and a HOPE.'"

I can't tell you how many times, recently, I've cried out to God to take me, now. To end the heartache and disappointment that I have with myself. In fact, recently, my prayer has changed to one of simply asking God for forgiveness for all the ways I've wrecked my chance at life...and, to just basically ask Him if he'd just ERASE me-as though I never existed. 

I'm searching: 
For the place I belong.
For the sun.
For a reason to keep believing.

In that frame of mind, this speaks the most to me:
"It is neccessary to have wished for death in order to know how good it is to live."
Alexandre Dumas Père

Go hug your mom. Call your grandma. Ask that old friend for forgiveness. If you Love someone... please tell them. They may need to hear that so desperately.
Release it all, because it is all so small in the grand scheme of things.

Until I can write something positive, I don't think I'll be writing again-
Until then, 
Hillary

"Since every death diminishes us a little, we grieve - not so much for the death as for ourselves" - Lynn Caine Every death does diminish us a little - taking away a portion of our heart, only to replace it with an aching void. It is this newly created space that seems to devour any happiness or joy I might encounter. Because as soon as I figure out that I'm partially enjoying myself, I am reminded that perhaps this moment could have been that much sweeter - if only "they" could be here with us. Yesterday, at 3:55pm, my Grandma Ludie took her last and final breath. And, I understand that to grieve is the most indulgent of self indulgent acts. It is the darkest pit of self-absorbed, self-pity. But, please-just indulge me. Let me be the first to admit: I am consumed with this loss. I am so completely exhausted down in this pit of despair, that I can only offer you space to curl up next to me in this darkness. My arms hang limply at my sides, and the half-hearted smile I might have been able to muster earlier in the week, has crawled down my face-creating a frown...a grimace. The beat of my heart will assure you that, yes-I will continue to breathe. Though, my heart feels as if it is stuttering and stammering to keep pumping. Lately, it seems that every time I come home to visit, it is to bury someone I love. Last night, I cried out until I was sick. Even then, crouched on the ground and emptying my insides - I could not get rid of the sickening loneliness. The realization that death has severed another relationship. Instead, I just clawed at the ground - and shouted out to God. "God, I know you hear me. I know you can hear me.... Lord, you can hear me.... You hear me, right?" *Stiffening Silence* I know He never forsakes us, but is it possible that he turns his head, at times, just to allow us to learn something on our own? Because, I've never felt so alone or so misunderstood - as I have recently. I can say I need help. I can say I'm afraid of where my mind is headed - and how it seems to be off the tracks and running - pulling me with it - but for some reason, people seem to shrug it off.... please, please don't shrug me off. When I was a little girl, and I'd become overwhelmed with whatever may have been on my mind - I'd go sit on the porch and sing. Usually, my dog Pokie would come and lay his head in my lap - and lick the tears from my face. He seemed to just KNOW that I needed him. Even Pokie is gone, now. I've been riding my Mom's bike every day since I've been here. I keep thinking that if I'll just keep moving, I can trick my body into feeling more alive. I still swing by Reed's house - even though I know he won't be there. Just seeing his "Probe Testarosa" in the driveway makes me smile. I love remembering him, always dressed to the nines, pulling into the driveway to whisk Heather away somewhere for the evening. I keep lifting my eyes, waiting for my own version of Reed to pull into the driveway. But, that hope dwindles day-by-day. Sometimes, I get so exhausted from emotion-that I'll just go to sleep in the middle of the day. Last Saturday was one of those days, and I lay on the couch in my living room, and drifted to sleep. In my dream, Reed came through the back door of my house with a basketball under his arm. He sat down next to me on the ottoman near the couch, as I was still sleeping (in my dream). He pushed the hair away from my face, and he leaned over me and said, "Don't lose your hope, Hillary. Don't you lose your hope." "You are going to have everything you need." Then, he pulled a moving photo out of his pocket, and he said, "I want to show you something." This photo had a small cottage / cabin in the woods, with a spring river running through the back side of the land. He said, "This is going to be your house." Then, he said, "You want to know something else? You're going to have your own little boy. You're going to name him 'Robin'-because he'll sing like a bird." To that, I began to cry. Then, he got up, spinning the basketball on the end of his finger the way he used to do-and he looked over his shoulder outside at the basketball goal. On his way out the door, he stopped and he said, "Hillary, your spirit is not broken - it's just the grief you are dealing with." And, he walked on out the door. When I woke up, the ottoman was still sitting beside me in the same way it was when Reed had sat on it. The sun was shining through the blinds at exactly the same angle, and I felt this warmth-this true belief that it was he who HAD come to visit me. How could he have known that I am losing my hope? How could he have known how much I long for a family of my own? How much I desire to belong to a man, and to have that man love me for me? For all the quirks, and strangeness that is bundled up into this mess that I call "me"? I think that sometimes God will send us angels so we won't completely lose our hope. Last night, Heather found me outside crying - I haven't cried in front of any of the family. And, she just sat with me. She just sat and sat so I wouldn't be alone. When she finally broke the silence to ask me what was wrong, I confided in her that I am beginning to lose hope. That all those dreams that I've held in my heart of hearts since I was a little girl, playing with my Barbie and Ken - they are slowly slipping away. That I'm starting to believe that love isn't part of my plan. That perhaps God won't allow me to have a love relationship because it distracts me too much from Him. And, you know what she said, "Reed used to tell me not to lose my hope, Hillary. He told me to claim this verse: Jeremiah 29:11 'For I know the plans I have for you. Plans to prosper you. To give you life and a HOPE.'" I can't tell you how many times, recently, I've cried out to God to take me, now. To end the heartache and disappointment that I have with myself. In fact, recently, my prayer has changed to one of simply asking God for forgiveness for all the ways I've wrecked my chance at life...and, to just basically ask Him if he'd just ERASE me-as though I never existed. I'm searching: For the place I belong. For the sun. For a reason to keep believing. In that frame of mind, this speaks the most to me: "It is neccessary to have wished for death in order to know how good it is to live." Alexandre Dumas Père Go hug your mom. Call your grandma. Ask that old friend for forgiveness. If you Love someone... please tell them. They may need to hear that so desperately. Release it all, because it is all so small in the grand scheme of things. Until I can write something positive, I don't think I'll be writing again- Until then, Hillary

my heart feels worn out and swollen, just like my eyes. it's that exhaustion you experience when you've cried for so long, you seem to have run out of emotion.

it's beautiful this morning. the sun is beaming through every slant-like opportunity to splash light onto the living room floor. i got a new rug last weekend. i'm so stoked about it, that it actually makes my heart speed up when i look at it. instead of a "boom-boom. boom-boom." it sorta intensifies into a "boom-bobba-boom-bobba-boom"...yeah, this rug totally excites me.
it's just that it's so...so...blue. 

and so BADASS! 

i have always enjoyed feathering my nest. i really like to explore the things that bring me joy. and, i like to remind myself of people and places and times in my life that represent experiencing true joy, or love, or excitement. and to try and lay things out in ways that surprise and delight my eyes. for instance, i like the imagery of a stack of books. there's an opportunity and an escape that lies within those pages. you can bet that there are books available within arms reach, in most every comfy seat in my house.

and, birds. there are little birds unexpectedly perched on the lamp next to you, or that stack of books over there. all different sorts of birds, but i especially like the really fat chested ones. they always make me laugh.

recently, a dove has taken to cooing its soft songs when i wake up in the morning, and when i go to sleep at night. i am so thankful for that sweet bird. i'll sit on the back porch and read, or lounge in the hammock and just listen. 

it is the quiet times, like this sunday morning, when i am more able to be truly present in the moment - and not projecting my mind into that meeting next week, or the flight i still need to book. 

my daily inner dialogue, and my personal time clock have been on nothing but business, deadlines, expectations, expenses, miscommunications, validation, and problems being reincarnated. it has been such a nasty brew of upsetting toxicity inside of my chest. at this point, it has begun to become difficult to breathe.

some things are imploding, some things are exploding, and some things are expiring. nothing, at this time, remains safe for me. my family, my career, my home, my relationships, my finances...all seem to be a part of this massive upheaval.

all of these things seem to be occurring somewhere outside of myself. as though i am at the center of this swirling storm, and the chaos and confusion are colliding about in a slow motion orchestrated opera outside of who i am. it is fascinating, and i stand in awe wondering where i will be left when my life finally rests in it's new shifted shape.

it is in this space that i observe this:
our homes are no more established than a swallow's nest. our imagined safety, and our barricades of items that somehow combine to define who we are and what we're about - they mean nothing in the eternal scheme of things. the stacks of books, the picture frames and kaleidoscopes, the pillows and the blankets...they are, in the simplest of terms, emotional clutter.

and, no amount of officially hung and/or framed photo can guarantee that the relationship it is glorifying will last. no, in my experience, the frames LONG outlast the relationships that they so lovingly capture.

i've got a lot of photos that i've kept in the frames. i mean...the picture frame itself sometime even becomes associated with somethign that you've lost...doesn't it? so, it's best to not be reminded of anything from the past right now. no, not anything at all.

well...i suppose i'm going to have to grab a hold of something slightly solid, that will make me want to wake up every morning and take on another day. so, for now i think that it'll be that lil' turquoise blue rug from Pier 1.

oh, and that dove in the back yard. we can't forget that dove.

my heart feels worn out and swollen, just like my eyes. it's that exhaustion you experience when you've cried for so long, you seem to have run out of emotion.

it's beautiful this morning. the sun is beaming through every slant-like opportunity to splash light onto the living room floor. i got a new rug last weekend. i'm so stoked about it, that it actually makes my heart speed up when i look at it. instead of a "boom-boom. boom-boom." it sorta intensifies into a "boom-bobba-boom-bobba-boom"...yeah, this rug totally excites me.
it's just that it's so...so...blue.

and so BADASS!

i have always enjoyed feathering my nest. i really like to explore the things that bring me joy. and, i like to remind myself of people and places and times in my life that represent experiencing true joy, or love, or excitement. and to try and lay things out in ways that surprise and delight my eyes. for instance, i like the imagery of a stack of books. there's an opportunity and an escape that lies within those pages. you can bet that there are books available within arms reach, in most every comfy seat in my house.

and, birds. there are little birds unexpectedly perched on the lamp next to you, or that stack of books over there. all different sorts of birds, but i especially like the really fat chested ones. they always make me laugh.

recently, a dove has taken to cooing its soft songs when i wake up in the morning, and when i go to sleep at night. i am so thankful for that sweet bird. i'll sit on the back porch and read, or lounge in the hammock and just listen.

it is the quiet times, like this sunday morning, when i am more able to be truly present in the moment - and not projecting my mind into that meeting next week, or the flight i still need to book.

my daily inner dialogue, and my personal time clock have been on nothing but business, deadlines, expectations, expenses, miscommunications, validation, and problems being reincarnated. it has been such a nasty brew of upsetting toxicity inside of my chest. at this point, it has begun to become difficult to breathe.

some things are imploding, some things are exploding, and some things are expiring. nothing, at this time, remains safe for me. my family, my career, my home, my relationships, my finances...all seem to be a part of this massive upheaval.

all of these things seem to be occurring somewhere outside of myself. as though i am at the center of this swirling storm, and the chaos and confusion are colliding about in a slow motion orchestrated opera outside of who i am. it is fascinating, and i stand in awe wondering where i will be left when my life finally rests in it's new shifted shape.

it is in this space that i observe this:
our homes are no more established than a swallow's nest. our imagined safety, and our barricades of items that somehow combine to define who we are and what we're about - they mean nothing in the eternal scheme of things. the stacks of books, the picture frames and kaleidoscopes, the pillows and the blankets...they are, in the simplest of terms, emotional clutter.

and, no amount of officially hung and/or framed photo can guarantee that the relationship it is glorifying will last. no, in my experience, the frames LONG outlast the relationships that they so lovingly capture.

i've got a lot of photos that i've kept in the frames. i mean...the picture frame itself sometime even becomes associated with somethign that you've lost...doesn't it? so, it's best to not be reminded of anything from the past right now. no, not anything at all.

well...i suppose i'm going to have to grab a hold of something slightly solid, that will make me want to wake up every morning and take on another day. so, for now i think that it'll be that lil' turquoise blue rug from Pier 1.

oh, and that dove in the back yard. we can't forget that dove.

And, yes-they are listed in a particular order:

My Glo Worm was my best friend. He went everywhere with me, and I can't remember a time we ever had to change his batteries. I always remember hunkering down underneath my "Smurfs" sheets, at night, and how he'd light up the space underneath the blankets with this green glow, and I would talk to him and tell him how much I loved him. :)


Care Bears (I had the Blue one, but I always loved that Lion...I even had one of those "cloud cars" for my bear. Yep...with star and rainbow stickers all over it.)


Teddy Ruxpin - I finally got Teddy after asking for months, and he quickly became one of my most favorite diversions.


Sesame Street - I LOVED Ernie, Cookie Monster, and The Count -and was really annoyed by Big Bird. I remember severely disliking that big, yellow punk.






McDonald's Playground and Happy Meal Toys (especially the Cabbage Patch ones)